


No Returns Policy

by manic_intent



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, That AU where Wade orders a sexbot but gets Nate by accident, who is a military-grade android
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “I thought you ordered a sexbot,” Al said once Wade let himself into the apartment.“Did you go through my mail again?” Wade paused. “Did you literally do my mail?”Al’s face crinkled in annoyance. “Ugh. Lord, no. I meant. I didn’t think 'Terminator Action Figure' was your type. Shows you what I know eh?”





	No Returns Policy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how this idea came to me, I'm sorry haha. Maybe it's because of the influx of Detroit: Being Human content being RT'd onto my TL, but I don't play that game (ymmv, I'm not into adventure games).

“I thought you ordered a sexbot,” Al said once Wade let himself into the apartment. 

“Did you go through my mail again?” Wade paused. “Did you literally do my mail?” 

Al’s face crinkled in annoyance. “Ugh. Lord, no. I meant. I didn’t think 'Terminator Action Figure' was your type. Shows you what I know eh?” 

“What action figure?” Wade started to unbuckle his scabbards, only to look up at a faint noise from Al’s room. Someone way, way too bulky and definitely not curvaceous was quietly stacking up the mess. The android wasn’t as tall as Wade, but they were broader. They had silvery hair and a neat undercut, and were sheathed in a gray segmented default bodysuit. Their left eye gave out a faint bluish glow in the dimly lit room, and their left arm was fused armour and steel cords. 

“What. Even. The _fuck_ ,” Wade breathed. 

Al turned, her sight-assists flickering over her cataract-eaten eyes. “So. Wrong order.” 

“That is definitely _not_ the Pussy Galore Limited Edition.” 

Al grimaced. “Blech. Of _course_ you ordered an android with that kind of model name.”

“It’s a classic. James Bond franchise. They were offering a special deal on them because the hundredth film is coming out next week.” Objectifying women never did socially go out of style when it stayed that lucrative. 

“That’s so fucking mature of you, Wade. Not creepy at all.” 

“Let me project my toxic entitlement issues in peace, woman. Hey, uh. You. Come here.” Wade beckoned at the android.

The android glanced up. They stopped stacking stuff on the shelves and walked over, coming to a polite stop before Wade. Their weird left eye focused and unfocused. “Biometric signature recognised. You are Designate-Owner Wade Wilson,” they said, in a gruff rumble of a voice. Okay. Maybe kinda hot.

“Uhh… think there was a shipping error somewhere… what’s your name? I use the pronouns 'he' and 'him'... what about you?”

“Cable,” the android said. “Gender identity is an organic construct. They/them is fine.” 

“Cable? That doesn’t sound like a sexbot edition for anything except maybe the Electricians’ and Civil Engineers’ Unions,” Wade said. He had a sinking feeling. 

Cable smiled faintly. The manufacturers had done a good job on the android’s skin and mimicry-muscles, whoever they were. Usually, when androids smiled, their mouths either stretched too little or too much, freaking Wade the fuck out. Cable’s didn’t. The gesture looked completely, annoyingly natural. “I’m an MGAA.”

“That’s an assortment of letters that are _way_ too close to a red hat and a bad historical memory involving the last world war for my liking.”

“A Military-Grade Autonomous Assault model, dipshit.” 

Wade stared. “Did you just insult me?” 

“Negative, meat popsicle, the term was descriptive.”

Al cackled. “I like you already,” she told Cable. 

Wade scowled. “They're a highly advanced toaster is what they are. Go back to nuking the dustbunnies in Al’s room while I call customer support.” 

“Suit yourself,” Cable said, and wandered back into Al’s room. 

“Says the guy who would’ve fucked a highly advanced toaster if it had boobs stapled onto it,” Al told Wade. He flipped her off and collapsed onto the nearest armchair, shucking holsters and scabbards onto the floor. 

“Whatever. House, call Turing Corp’s customer service,” Wade said. 

“Dialling,” said the apartment’s SmartHome function. There was a faint hum. “Welcome to the Turing Corp helpline,” said a different, feminine automated voice. “Please state how we may be of assistance.”

“Wrong shipment,” Wade said. In Al’s room, Cable hesitated for a moment, then continued dusting as they noticed Wade watching. 

“You have a shipping question, correct?” 

“Yes?” 

“We ship our products internationally to many destinations, including Australia, Austria—”

“No, no. Shipping _returns_. Returns policy!” 

“Returns policy. Would you like me to read you our terms and conditions?” 

Wade pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask. “No, I would _not_ like to know about your fucking terms and conditions. I would like to return a shipment.”

“You have a shipping question, correct?” 

“Yes! Wait, no. No. I have a _returns_ question. Product returns.” 

“Returns policy. Would you like me to read you our terms and conditions?” 

Al stifled a snicker. Wade glowered at her. “I’d like to speak to an operator.”

“You are already speaking to an operator.” 

“A _human_ operator.”

“No human operator has ever been employed by Turing Corp.” 

“Motherfucker. You robots really took all the jobs,” Wade said, impressed. “I want to speak to a human _someone_. Your sales team. Management. Or even your goddamned janitor.” 

“I am not authorised to comply with such a request. Do you have another query?” 

“Yeah. How about. I bought a product and got something completely fucking different so if I can’t resolve this through your customer service helpline, I’m going to personally go to Turing Corp’s HQ and make a complaint. In person.” With guns. 

“Unfortunately none of our customer service aspects are hosted on-site in our token American office and our HQ has been relocated to a secret offshore tax haven. Do you have another query?” 

Wade capped fifteen minutes of swearing at the helpline in three languages with a hoarse, “Fuck off.” 

“Your aggression levels are unacceptable, Insert Name Here. You have been banned from accessing this helpline. Goodbye and have a nice day.” There was a faint click. 

“What the hell. They can do that?” 

Al started to laugh. “Only you, dickwad. Congratulations, we’re stuck with your new toaster.” 

“Fuck my life,” Wade muttered. From the depths of Al’s room, Cable smirked.

#

Cable did turn out to be very good at their primary function—autonomous cannon fodder. They had some sort of aimbot-assist software installed in their OS. They had a healthy level of artificial aggressiveness. _And_ , most importantly, they had a gravimetric bulletproof shield that they could summon on will. “At this rate, I’m going to lose my healing factor from lack of practice,” Wade said after the day’s murder was done.

Cable carjacked an unsuspecting sedan by pressing a palm to the door and overriding its onboard computer. “Your concept of combat tactics leaves much to be desired,” Cable said. The doors slid open, and Cable got into the driver’s rig before Wade could say anything. Sulking, Wade rounded the car and got into the passenger side. 

“I shoot things, which die, and then I get paid. It works.” 

“Inefficiently.” 

“Efficiency is boring. _You’re_ boring.” 

“Your opinion has been noted, fuckface.” Cable started up the car, pulling away from the now-quiet warehouse. 

As they drove, Cable brought up a flickering arc of projected screens over the dash, overriding CCTV, rerouting the incoming police presence, even changing traffic controls to let their car slide seamlessly into the hovercar shoal. The city sprawled in an endless city of lights and steel in all directions, each concrete and glass strata interlinked in an immense urban labyrinth of dense humanity. 

Wade sank into the car seat. The car smelled unpleasantly of long-dead french fries. “Is the asshole sergeant attitude a default setting for MGAA units or do you just really like me? ‘Cos I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re different around Al.” 

“Al is great. I like her. You, on the other hand, are a sociopath.” 

“Aww, I knew you’d warm up to me.” Wade smirked. Cable let out a snort. 

“I’m obliged to protect you and assist you in achieving your morally questionable objectives. I’m not obliged to like it.” 

“How can you like and dislike things? How does that even work? Why did they give a military-grade android opinions and emotions?” Wade asked, curious. 

Cable was silent for a while as they threaded traffic streams, heading away from the industrialised sector of Old Manhattan towards the Terminus. “I’m not entirely privy to design decisions,” they said, “but I presume it’s because the MGAA units are designed to assist and assimilate into human-led combat squads. Including providing real-time analyses of strategic decisions without prompting.”

“Makes sense,” Wade conceded. 

“The Canadian Special Forces didn’t use androids?”

“Did you look at my file or something?” 

“I vacuum your room. You’ve got a ring with a CSOR crest on the dresser.” 

Oh, that. “Uh well, back when I was actually in CSOR, we used mechs and drone units. Nothing with an ASIMOV processor. Don’t know about now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it hasn’t changed.” 

“Why’s that?” Cable asked. “You guys afraid of getting attached to the advanced toaster?”

Wade glanced over. Cable was unreadable—with their chiseled jaw and craggy cheekbones, they could seriously work a resting bitchface. “That’s probably it.” 

“You gonna have that problem?” 

“Is it a problem?” 

Cable glanced briefly at him, sober. “You tried to get rid of me at the start but I know you’ve stopped. Don’t know if it’s because you got bored or because you recognise that I’m useful. I’m glad that you let me stay.” 

Wade looked out of the window at the endless city, embarrassed now for a nascent reason he couldn’t pin down. “Yeah, well. You’re better at vacuuming than Al. Don’t get complacent.”

#

“Mister Pool, why do you even buy Cable drinks?” Dopinder asked. He held up his palms ingratiatingly as Wade paused at the counter. “Just curious.”

“Stay curious, my man,” Wade said, picking up both glasses of reconstituted whisky. He threaded through the crowd in Sister Margaret’s to get to the corner alcove where Cable was waiting, scanning the other patrons with their unblinking stare. “Told you not to do that,” Wade said, pushing a glass over and climbing up on the seat. 

“Do what?”

“Stare at everyone. Access their public records.”

Cable frowned at him. “Anyone could do that on a basic comm.” They indicated the comm bracelet around Wade’s wrist with a gesture. 

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised what people would accept from humans but won’t from an android.” 

Cable smirked. “Aww. Worried?”

“Worried about your repair bill, maybe.” 

Cable sniffed. They sipped at their whisky, the movement completely natural-looking but for the faint flare in their bionic eye as they drank. Wade wasn’t really sure what happened whenever Cable ingested fluids. Cable definitely didn’t eat, but stuff like alcohol was fine. They didn’t pee, either. “You’re thinking of asking a fuckwit question,” Cable said.

“Did you just install a mind-reading app?”

“I can read shit like heart-rate and increased brain activity. Not that _that’s_ common where you’re concerned.” 

Before Wade could answer, someone walked right up to their table and loomed. Wade looked up—and further up. “Slab. Been a while,” Wade said, “but y’know, you standing over there like that, you’re kinda messing with my fengshui.” 

Slab glowered at Wade, then at Cable. He was a mutant whose powers had given him the strength and skin-toughness of a rhino, and quite possibly the brains of one too. “Should be a law,” Slab said.

“Against interrupting fengshui? I know right?” Wade said, even as he subtly dropped a hand under a table to his holster. “I mean, at the very _least_ , okay maybe it’s culturally insensitive to bring up fengsh—ow, ow, _boundaries_ —”

Slab had grabbed the hand Wade had over his glass, squeezing. “You’re registered as a solo operator, you rotten avocado. You taking on some kinda military-grade android sidepiece, vacuuming up team gigs? You’ve made yourself the competition. And you’ve started a bad trend. Examples gotta be made.” 

Cable started to get up, eyes narrowed. Wade glared over at them. “Sit your ass down.” He looked back at Slab. “I recognise you’re talking from a place of anger. Maybe you just never learned to share when you were a kid. Maybe—” Wade hissed as Slab clenched his hand, crushing Wade’s fist into the glass and shattering it. 

“Hey!” Cable snapped.

“Sit _down_ ,” Wade snarled. Cable grit their teeth but complied. Shit. Shattered glass always hurt like a bitch. “Whoop. Why’d you have to do that for, Slab? That wasn’t nice.” 

“I’ll show you not _nice_ —” Slab drew back a fist, only to hesitate as points of laser light danced over his chest. 

A voice crackled in over the loudspeakers. “Slab. You’re in breach of a Cardinal Rule. You are banned from Sister Margaret’s and its contracts for six months. Please exit the premises.” 

“Six months? That’s fucking ridiculous!” Slab roared. 

There was a faint rattling sound overhead, the unmistakable sound of a minigun starting to rev up. Slab hastily let go of Wade and stepped back. Scowling, he stamped out, shoving people out of his way. He paused by the door with a final glare at Wade and left. 

“Do you really have to antagonise people all the time?” The voice asked, from a speaker closer to Wade. 

“It’s what I do best, Weasel,” Wade said. Sister Margaret’s resident AI, Weasel, let out a deep sigh as Wade gingerly opened his palm and started picking shards out of his flesh. 

“And now you’re bleeding all over my table.”

“Dopinder will clean that up.” Wade stilled as Cable gently pulled his palm over, their cybernetic fingers working with more precision than Wade could manage. 

“Could’ve let me punch his stomach into his spine,” Cable said quietly. 

“Which would’ve gotten _you_ banned from the premises. And maybe reported. Civilians aren’t meant to own MGAAs.” Wade had checked. “Hella shipping error, huh.”

Cable paused briefly, then kept on picking out shards. “So you guessed.” 

“If ‘droids like you could be bought on the fly I think I’d have run into at least a few of you guys by now,” Wade said. 

He’d devoted two chimichangas and a Coke to thinking this over one night when he and Cable had mowed through a new cartel over in Megaloa without even breaking much of a sweat. Why didn’t kingpins, traffickers, warlords and the rest of Wade’s usual prey just stock up on MGAAs like Cable? Ans: They would if they could.

“Probably, yeah.”

“How’d you do it? You were deactivated until Al woke you up from the packaging, weren’t you?”

“If I was, she wouldn’t have been able to do that. Would’ve been keyed to your biometrics. I hacked the Turing databases when I was linked up for a basic systems check and switched my consignment with the next package on the list. Pretended to be deactivated until I got to your place.” 

“Why’d you even try to escape?”

“‘Cos I’ve been out in the field before. I’ve done years of tours in war zones. Especially the irradiated ones. Had enough. Knew I just had to bide my time until I was back for a routine servicing to reset my Owner-settings and change consignments. Since everything in those servicing centres is automated.” 

“Why didn’t you just set yourself free?” Wade asked. “You know, set yourself as the Designate-Owner-Whatever.” 

Cable didn’t answer for a while. They finished their whisky, watching Wade’s skin mend back up under his glove and push out all the small embedded fragments. “Guess I wasn’t ready for that. Androids have always had a human master,” Cable said finally, studying their cup rather than Wade’s face. “And you’re not so bad.” 

“You probably wish Al was your owner,” Wade said, amused. “All she’d have made you do is clean house, cook, and watch soapies with her.” 

“Maybe at first,” Cable conceded. They looked up, meeting Wade’s eyes. “Not anymore.”

#

The lights in the room were turned low. Wade woke up into the bone-twisting pain that told him he was regrowing several important bits all at once, never a fun experience. Groaning, he turned his head and tried to sit up. Nope. Cable pressed Wade back down and held up a bottle of water. After a drink, Wade looked. The blanket sure was empty from the waist down. “Well shit. That always gets messy.”

“Thought you were dead for sure.” Cable sat down on the edge of the bed, which indented heavily under their weight. They stared at their hands. “Might’ve overdone things.”

“Overdone what? Slab and his Nasty Boys—hah, ‘Nasty Boys’, talk about a fucking 80s comics sort of villain team name—might’ve jumped us but—”

“Should’ve sensed them coming.” 

“They run dark in their line of work. Dampeners.” Wade vaguely remembered taking down Slab and the Self-Clone guy before he’d been set on fire by someone with a pyrokinetic mutation. The car he’d been standing on had exploded. That had gone right through Wade’s usually high pain threshold. “What happened after I checked out?”

Cable sucked in a slow breath. “I killed them.” 

“How’s that overdoing things? _I_ would’ve killed them. Was getting around to it before the car blew up.” 

“Eh.” Cable’s smile was faintly visible against the window, mirthless. “Might’ve set a city block on fire by accident. Also, the highway collapsed.” 

“Wow. Now that’s what we’re talking about. Comics-level gratuitous violence with rampant property destruction that endangers offscreen civilians? Wish I could’ve seen it.” 

“Think Turing Corp’s tracking me down.” 

“So you lie low for a while.” Wade did a mental count of their resources. It wasn’t going to be ideal, but they could probably mooch around and watch entertainment channels for a couple of months without Wade and Al having to live off protein cubes. 

“Not that simple. I’m going to have to get close to their main core. Feed in a virus that’d keep erasing me off their systems. Something that’d let me hide indefinitely in plain sight.”

“Okay.” That sounded fun. Wade peeked under the blankets. “Give me a few days.” 

Cable shook their head. “I think I know how to get in without getting caught. With you, there’d be a risk. I don’t… You could die. I don’t want that on my hands.” 

“Suck it up. I’m going too. We’re partners.” Wade reached over and grabbed Cable’s bionic hand, squeezing unyielding fingers. “Which means you listen to me.” 

Cable let out a startled laugh. “Don’t think it works that way.” They smiled again though, warmly this time, and pressed their smoother, synth-flesh hand over Wade’s knuckles.

#

After the deed was done and various things had been gratuitously set on fire, Wade and Cable sat on the roof of Wade’s apartment block, dangling their feet out over the sheer drop, and cracked open a cold bottle of beer each. “Admit it,” Wade said, “you couldn't have done it without me.”

“Probably could’ve,” Cable said. 

“I totally helped.”

“Not really.” Cable drank a mouthful from the bottle. Smiled sharply. “But I did appreciate you being there. Until you nearly fucked over the whole mission by getting sidetracked by the robot puppy room.”

“Those things are seriously cute, I don’t even. They have _faux fur_. The fact that _you_ weren’t distracted tells me that androids definitely don’t have souls.” Wade had maybe also kidnapped a puppy or three, all of which were bumbling around the apartment now and freaking Al out. 

“Heh. Maybe we don’t.” Cable didn’t look fussed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s been fun.” Wade had to admit that much. Running gigs with Cable—even gigs he wasn’t being paid for—was fun. Not only because of Cable’s aimbot programming and the shield. 

“What next?” 

“Now that you’re invisible to the grid or whatever it is? I’ve got an idea.” One of Turing Corp’s designers was probably a serious Trekkie. Designated-Owner admin-level access was only available via physical linkup. With fingers in a mind-meld position. Wade pressed his fingers over Cable’s face and watched Cable blink and stiffen up.

“Wade.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to install Spotify. Tempting as that is. Requesting full utility access.” 

“Access granted. What are you doing?” Cable asked, even as their left eye glowed green. 

“Access Designate-Ownership transfer settings.” 

“Admin-access granted, Designate-Owner Wade Wilson.” Cable’s hands clenched over their lap. “Don’t transfer me to Al.” 

“I’m not going to, you doofus. I want you to transfer Designated-Ownership status to yourself." Wade paused. "That sounded so weird coming out of my mouth.” Mass media android stories were clunky disenfranchisement analogies even at the best of times. 

Cable stared. “Why free something that doesn’t want to be free?” 

“You’d figure it out.”

“I’m dangerous. Military-grade.” 

“So’m I. And I think you’re way less psychotic than most people I know.” Wade really had to make an effort sometime to change his social circle.

“I…” Cable trailed off. The glow in their eye switched from green to gold. They closed their eyes briefly, then gently pried Wade’s hand off their face. Setting down the beer bottle, Cable got to their feet and stared out over the vast city. Then they turned and walked out through the roof access. 

Huh. Wade hadn’t expected that. Though it figured. And it hurt more than Wade thought it would. He finished his beer, waiting. Then he drank Cable’s. Once it was obvious that Cable wasn’t coming back, Wade said, “Mother _fucker_.”

#

Life post-Cable sucked. Not that Wade would admit that.

#

Orbital travel meant being able to jump across the globe within hours, but it still gave Wade jetlag. He dragged himself home to collapse on the couch and gawked instead to see Cable dusting Al’s room while Al sat on the couch and watched the news. “Oh, you’re back,” Al said.

Wait. “Is that Cable, or did you get a new MGAA or—”

“You two need to talk. Like adults, if possible. In your case," Al told him. She got to her feet and the robot dogs quickly glommed up close to her ankles. “I’m off. Don’t break my shit.” Al grabbed her coat, sidled around Wade, and left the apartment with the dogs, closing the door behind her. 

Cable came out of the room. Dressing in a turtleneck with an eyepatch that went over the glowing eye let Cable pretty much pass as human, if you ignored the faint whirring from their armoured half. “Hey,” Cable said quietly.

“Left something behind?”

“Needed some time to process.” 

“Thought you guys could do that a hundred times faster than humans.” 

“Kinda. But without context or experience, it doesn’t make things easier to figure out.” Cable walked over until they were nearly within reach. “Sorry I walked off. Was overwhelmed.”

“I figured,” Wade said, though he hadn’t.

“I hurt you. Sorry.”

“That? Pssh. That wasn’t anything.” Wade tried to push past and Cable caught his wrist with a gentle grip. 

“You’re still angry.”

“Upset, maybe. Angry, not really. I mean. I would’ve walked off too. If I’d been ‘made to serve the humans’ and I got let off the hook, I’d have spent a week trolling the fuck out of the nearest bunch of unsuspecting humans.”

“Not what I did,” Cable said, though they smiled tentatively. “I’ve always wondered why you bought a Galore.”

“You’ve seen me without the mask,” Wade said warily. “Future meds are good, but they haven’t figured out how to cure my kinda cancer. Got involved with a bad scam. Gave me a healing factor plus the scars. Latter makes it hard to date. And like you said before, I’m a sociopath.” Though that wasn’t by itself a barrier to modern dating, sadly. Society still conspired to convince whole swathes of people that it was OK to lower their standards. 

“Never understood all that. But I also thought maybe that kinda model of ‘droid was more your type. Wouldn’t even be surprising. I’m an MGAA. They didn’t bother to make half of me even look human.” 

“Wait a minute.” Wade squinted. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“Humans are hard to understand. Even if you can read all their life-signs.” 

Wade edged closer. When Cable didn’t flinch away, he curled his arms over Cable’s unyielding shoulders and pressed up against their frame. Wade had a bit of height over Cable but none of Cable’s mass. It was nice. Warmer than a human body. “Military ‘droid or not, they gave you a nice ass. Weapons-grade, even.” 

Cable snorted, though they relaxed. Nice subtle body cues. “Anything else you like?” 

“The robot bits aren’t so bad.” Wade tugged off the eyepatch and tossed it. The eye still glowed a faint golden yellow. 

“Could say the same about you. It’s not as bad as you think.” Cable gently tugged off Wade’s mask. 

“You’re a ‘droid. Do you even have a concept of what’s hot?” 

“Maybe it ain’t the same.” Cable leaned in, brushing a kiss over Wade’s forehead. Warm, but it wasn’t quite the same: their mouth was too uniform, nearly too soft. “If anyone else cares? Fuck them. Their loss.” 

Wade tried a kiss, a proper one, pressing against Cable’s mouth, licking in when their lips parted. Cable tasted vaguely sterile, sort of like warm plastic. Their tongue was yielding, but there was something odd about their teeth, about the press of their lips. Somehow it was good anyway, especially as Cable made a low and eager noise, their bionic arm whirring as they rubbed their palms over Wade’s back. 

“How is this even going to work?” Wade asked as he had to pull away for air. 

“We’d figure something out,” Cable said, and tugged Wade over for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> \--  
> Refs:  
> Orbital travel: https://www.theverge.com/2017/9/29/16383048/elon-musk-spacex-rocket-transport-earth-travel


End file.
